quête:noi!se

Tucked in the heart of Koreatown, Los Angeles, lies The Libra Hotel—the titular architecture of Nick Malkin's new album and site of his musical and psychogeographic exploration. Unlike most musical "site-specific" studies, Malkin remains wholly ambivalent to the documentarian approach, instead sharpening an auteur-like focus on the site as a conceptual and highly expressive backdrop. The Libra is musically explored as a space that houses a noir fragmentation of identity—the exhausted trope of a complicated protagonist walking through rain-soaked street corners and fumy neon lights—where an inner monologue is rendered in both miniature and at a cosmic scale. Casting aside stifling tropes around field recording, ambient, and improvised music, Malkin's work finds its own unique fidelity and emotional core through the assembly and reassembly of memory. Nearly every sound on the album—from frayed saxophones, lambent pianos, and dissected jazz drum kits—are multiplied, shattered, and reconstituted into shapes that adorn The Libra in a motion-blurred fog. The narrative of the Hotel suddenly appears as if out of the mist, with intersecting characters interacting within its walls by happenstance. Adminst the languid set pieces, wraith-like sonic grains gravitate around wide subbass beams that give structural form to The Libra, a narrative tension like when a scene is shot from hundreds of different perspectives: an image both luminous and veiled.

Much like Frank Sinatra's own spatial residency immortalized on "Live at The Sands," "At The Libra Hotel" showcases an exuberant view of entertainment, hospitality, and a form of masculinity, one that can quickly detourn into darkness. Knowing this, Malkin extracts a melancholic core out of The Libra locale. The flickering shadows of American decadence are shown in their ephemeral honesty, lines that trace how even in everyday life virtue is tested, sanity is tested, even reality is tested within the confines of desire, within the night. The album is draped in fleeting textures, carefully arranged with a trance-like microtonality, the faint inflections and articulations of a jazz band cascading into dissipated stillness. Voicemails about changed locations and covert eavesdropping on guests' whispered conversations provide an atmosphere of missed connection and voyeurism—a purloined letter of desire receding into a vanishing point. Like the music itself, The Hotel, a chapel perilous at the intersection of desolation row, the center of it all, yet simultaneously at the edge of town, becomes a structure between libidinous virtuality and actuality—our inevitable half-light.

Ultimately, the pensive atmosphere of "At The Libra Hotel," powerfully asserts a plea for the kinds of intimacy only possible in transient spaces. Here, memory cascades into a force that feels like something supernatural, perhaps even religious, yet always subject to the infidelity of our imagination. Here, the album opens into its primary psychodrama, the transient nature of subjectivity itself and how this becomes fractured in the tumult between our commitments and desires. Within this nocturnal space, to quote Louise Bourgeois, "you pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture."

Craig Clouse has devoted the past several decades to exploring a wide range of avant-garde avenues for his brainchild Shit & Shine. The monolithic riffs of raw and powerful psych'n'roll hysteria, the freeform dance miasma, sub-heavy electronica and the blissful stupidity crafted for ecstatic ascension: all perfectly-placed in the idiosyncratic world of Shit & Shine. There's also fertile soil for twisted noises in their lowest form, often obscured by groovier comrades in S&S releases yet vitally important for the substance of Clouse's compositional carcass and OOH-sounds has given him the required space to stretch out his longtime interest in developing loose structures and crackling landscapes to transcend his rhythmic comfort zone.

Making an enthusiastic transgression into noisy tones, "Joy Of Joys" has a friendly way of presenting difficult material. The rough and ready cheapo electronics sparkle in full electrifying mode, welding an ascetic gamut of aural hypnotics with a wormhole of uncompromising loop brut. Clanks, bangs, twangs and creeping, ragged globs of sound bloom on the bones of repetition to focus on the swinging stream of dirty anarchy. Stepping out of any context and genre disciplines, S&S finds new sonic trajectories in "Joy Of Joys" which perfectly sit in-between a wobbly cabal of international sub-underground acts: the idiot-avant strategies of LAFMS, early Mego bad digitalia, no-brow enthusiasm of Wolf Eyes family, micro-DIY ethos of Chocolate Monk and the sheer hellish nonsense of US noise circa '00s.

Clouse was already established as a landscape painter with a series of faux naïf paintings charmingly accompanying his releases. With his heart full of passion for abstract minimalism, he continued these narrative forms but was always in search of the confidence to paint non-figurative art. The first step into the chaotic abyss is coming from his sonic side by abandoning the beat and riff layers of his previous works to complete nakedness and reductionist courage. At once Clouse makes an evolutionary lurch into extremes as well as taking us back to basic forms in "Joy Of Joys". He creates an entire new parallel world to Shit & Shine with his maverick imagination presenting us with one of the most mutant releases to bear his name. Arthur Kuzmin

nobile, one half of the former Milanese duo Voronoi, presents a new series of recordings of ephemeral ambient soundscapes, organic throbs and broken rhythmic textures that sublimate the more instinctual and playful side of his poetics.


The project is haunted by cavernous sounds and an obsession with the 'netherworld' of the videogame Minecraft, and by Le Matin des Magiciens - the classic and revolutionary book that popularised occultism, alchemy and paranormal phenomena in the 1960s. "...FANTASTICO INTERIORE is" - as the artist puts it - "a fantastic journey inside the body, perhaps also a journey into the unconscious to understand my gastritis?"

The seven tracks traverse underworlds, infused with fantastic realism, where odd sounds materialise like poltergeists of digital folklore. Creepy voices emerge from the hell-like nether, intertwined with clusters of gelatinous percussive sounds that trudge to the surface. Earthy streams of crackling white noise carry volatile sonic particles that bounce off walls with short delays and reverberations, giving an almost visible form to the space.




But it is not always serious. As soon as you come across the curiously long titles of the tracks (which are rough translations of the Minecraft manual into Italian) a subtle irony emerges. The imagery appears to be harmless and eventually, as in a video game, you can switch to safe-mode and refill your health-bar along the way... 
No panic attacks in the soft-occultism of FANTASTICO INTERIORE ;)

XDCVR_ unveils 'I HATE THAT SHIT, I HATE ALL THAT SHIT' a blistering sonic manifesto on the 'performativity of decay'.

In a world saturated with digital perfection, the album emerges as a vital, hand-made act of electronic rebellion.

Framed as a "soundtrack for the end stretch" the record explores the notion that societal decay is not a passive process, but an active performance—a machine chugging along long after its wheels have fallen off.

This is cyborg music for a bifurcated reality: carbon-fiber toughness shielding a core of systemic rot. The sound palette is intentionally raw and imperfect, a direct challenge to the sterile, automated order of what the artist calls the "techno-fascist oligarchy."

Tracks eschew conventional temporality, mirroring the feeling of existing in two concurrent timelines—one hyper-aware of the collapse, the other numbly consuming it.

Drawing a line from the Cold War anxieties of the past to the data-farming dystopia of the present, 'I HATE THAT SHIT…' posits art as the last authentic incubator for societal change. It is, in the artist's words, "a deliberate 'fuck you' to the oppressive order of the status quo. This is not easy listening; it is a contested space, a lit fuse, and a necessary noise for our complicated times."

Mit "Angriff auf"s Schlaraffenland" veröffentlicht Tapete Records eine umfassende, musikalisch kuratierte Reise durch 50 Jahre deutschsprachigen Punk - von den frühen Experimenten der späten 1970er bis zu modernen Positionen der Gegenwart. Die Compilation begleitet die Jubiläums-Veröffentlichungen des Ventil Verlags, der über 200 Autor:innen zu ihren prägendsten Punk-Songs versammelt und damit das Vermächtnis sowie die Relevanz des Genres würdigt. Wie ein gutes Mixtape verzichtet die Sammlung bewusst auf Chronologie und setzt auf rein musikalische Kriterien: rohe Energie, politische Haltung, Humor, Widerspruchsgeist und stilistische Vielfalt. Vertreten sind u. a. Die Radierer, Hans-A-Plast, Palais Schaumburg, Egotronic, Bärchen und die Milchbubis, Toxoplasma, Slime, Schnipo Schranke, Stereo Total, Die Nerven - Bands, die Punk mit Pop, Dada, Elektronik, Chanson oder Noise neu definiert haben. "Angriff auf"s Schlaraffenland" ist damit ein unverzichtbares Dokument für alle, die Punk nicht als Nostalgie, sondern als lebendige, widersprüchliche und weiterhin unbequeme Kulturform verstehen.

Italian producer Gledd has been quietly carving out a reputation for groove-led house music that balances raw dancefloor energy with rich musicality.

Drawing on influences that span gospel, afrobeat, and classic deep house, his productions channel both heritage and forward-thinking club culture. My House Is Your Church marks his debut release on Delusions Of Grandeur - a fitting home for his expansive, souldrenched sound - and signals a bold new chapter in his evolution as an artist. The EP opens with On His Way, a percussion-heavy deep roller built for maximum dancefloor impact. Anchored by fat, heavyweight production and a massive low-end presence, the track surges forward with relentless energy. An incredible gospel vocal cuts through the mix, elevating the groove into something transcendent - equal parts spiritual and physical.

On It’s Not That Easy, Gledd leans further into his gospel house influences. Highimpact and rhythmically rich, the track weaves together organ fills and subtle tropical flourishes, creating a vibrant, sun-soaked energy while keeping the pressure firmly on the floor.

It’s a track that feels both uplifting and commanding. Flipping to the B-side, Habibi Gospel pushes into more “outernational” territory. A wild, expressive lead vocal takes center stage, riding atop a heavy, driving groove. Organ stabs punctuate the rhythm, locking dancers into a hypnotic flow that bridges cultures and styles with effortless confidence. Closing the EP, Can You Hear My Noise? brings things to a richly textured finale. Slightly more organic in feel, it blends echoing synth stabs, percussive melodic lines, and chopped vocals into a melting pot of sound. The result is a seamless fusion of gospel, afrobeat, and classic house - deep, emotive, and undeniably danceable. With My House Is Your Church, Gledd delivers a statement of intent: music as ritual, the dancefloor as sanctuary.

The open skies of Ochre's new album, Oversail, replace the dense canopies of his last, Understory back in 2020. This time, UK-born, Netherlands-based talent Christopher Leary trades rhythmic intricacy for something more exposed and reflective on a record that unfolds in measured steps, with each passage revealing fragile melodies set against sparse, shifting frameworks. There's a tactile quality to the sound design, hardware elements clicking and sighing like ageing machinery still in motion. Tracks feel suspended and the focus is on slow revelation across the quietly affecting 'Casadastra', airy beauty of 'Meristem' and hopeful synth sequencing of 'Canthropa.'

Shaped from fragile, emotionally charged piano motifs that distort, disappear and transform into dense, cinematic textures, 'CANALS' is a debut that's finely matured, the result of years of friendship and growth. Italian artist Vanja Sturno and Montréal-based Belgian-Spanish composer Pablo Geeraert (aka Sanea Ima) have worked together extensively on various projects up until now, but 'CANALS' is their first official release as a duo. Having both studied music academically, the pair were eager to work more intuitively, so applied their well-honed set of skills to sound that, instead of fitting into a conceptual box, reflected more personal experiences.

Back in 2023, Geeraert travelled to Rome to support his friend at a difficult time and, during the trip, received some bad news of his own. The complicated feelings unconsciously surged through a series of delicate Ryuichi Sakamoto-inspired piano improvisations and a new project began to coalesce. They didn't realize it at the time, but once the record was finished, Sturno and Geeraert began to understand that the entire process had been a form a joint catharsis - a release of pressure. They were able to function so effortlessly and swiftly because they had already provided the space for each other to resonate emotionally and the music flowed from that point.

So the album's title, while remaining ambiguous, suggests its formation: a sequence of eight interconnected channels that feed a creative whole. On the first segment, Sturno and Geeraert's initial recordings can be perceived most nakedly, the melancholy, Satie-like phrases floating peacefully for a moment before the tranquility is agitated by stormy distortions and swelled into thick waves of harmony. The piano provides the record with its emotional anchor, offering focus and clarity as multi-dimensional noise wells up around it before inevitably dissipating, leaving gentle, unadorned sounds once again.

And the familiar instrument is reshaped into a wheezing artificial organ on the animated 'CANALS III', punctuated by percussive, tape-warped pitch fluctuations that seem to bite into its very essence. Gauzy acoustic granulations snowball into a powerful, bass-heavy crescendo on the fourth part, setting the tenor for the album's second half. But after the crushing 'CANALS VI', possibly Sturno and Geeraert's heaviest track, a brief tremolo-heavy vignette that ripples through experimental rock and ambient music's braided history, the duo clear the air with a jazzy diversion, introducing soft woodwind blasts as a palate cleanser before an epic, widescreen finale.

It's an album that's best absorbed as a whole, a vortex of ritualistic, rhythmic repetitions that Sturno and Geeraert appropriately refer to as "spiral listening".

Irish drone-doom-folk act One Leg One Eye, the project of founding Lankum member Ian Lynch and veteran noise monger George Brennan, announce their new album, CRONE, out on 1 May on AD 93.

Today the group share the first track on the album, ‘Many are my Names Besides’, on which they are joined by the elemental force that is legendary actor, performer, writer and director Olwen Fouéré (Operating Theatre) contributing vocals.

Olwen Fouéré comments:

“When Ian and George first approached me to work with them, they were already creating the Crone album as a sonic invocation of the ‘sovereignty goddess’, who personifies the land and the legitimacy to rule it, in her darkest and most terrifying form. As we spoke, the triple goddess figure of the Morrigan entered my mind, reinforced by a marked presence of crows every time we met. The Morrigan is essentially a war goddess, frequently appearing as a crow in a battlefield, a death prophet, a guardian of sovereignty, and a very powerful figure in Irish Mythology.

So I invoked her energy as a starting point, using text extracts that Ian sent me from the Ulster Cycle and other sources. The voice recording was done in one day, improvising the source material while the already composed music occupied my psyche through headphones.

Listening back, at this time in our world, I can only wonder at how much blood and war the Crone/ Crow of sovereignty is preparing to unleash now. Watch out.”

CRONE is the second album from Lynch and Brennan, following on from 2022’s slowburn slab of ambient grit, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Bewildering, psychedelic and ultimately transcendental, the four tracks of One Leg One Eye’s CRONE shapeshift and morph endlessly in a coarse miasma. Traditional song structures and vocal melody are eschewed, instead the trio directly channel energies from the rich seams of mythological significance submerged below the Irish psyche. The anger, rage and beauty of the sovereignty goddess burn a consistent and deliberate line through the album in the form of obscure incantations and dire pronouncements, the gnarled sinews that bind it all together.

Just as the subject matter of the tracks delve deeper into Irish myth and the remote past, the temporal reality of the album reaches back into the bands prehistory, with the majority of it the material being recorded by Lynch and Brennan in 2021 before One Leg One Eye was conceived of as an entity with Brennan working on the CRONE project while Lynch worked on …And Take The Black Worm With Me.

When they were there they saw a lone woman coming to the door of the Hostel, after sunset, and seeking to be let in. As long as a weaver’s beam was each of her two shins, and they were as dark as the back of a stag-beetle. A greyish, wooly mantle she wore. Her lower hair used to reach as far as her knee. Her lips were on one side of her head.

She came and put one of her shoulders against the door-post of the house, casting the evil eye on the king and the youths who surrounded him in the Hostel. He himself addressed her from within.

"Well, O woman," says Conaire, "if thou art a wizard, what seest thou for us?"

"Truly I see for thee," she answers, "that neither fell nor flesh of thine shall escape from the place into which thou hast come, save what birds will bear away in their claws."

"It was not an evil omen we foreboded, O woman," saith he: "it is not thou that always augurs for us. What is thy name, O woman?"

"Calib," she answers.

"That is not much of a name," says Conaire.

"Lo, many are my names besides."

"Which be they?" asks Conaire.

"Easy to say," quoth she. "Samon, Sinand, Seisclend, Sodb, Caill, Coll, Díchóem, Dichiúil, Díthím, Díchuimne, Dichruidne, Dairne, Dáríne, Déruaine, Egem, Agam, Ethamne, Gním, Cluiche, Cethardam, Níth, Némain, Nóennen, Badb, Blosc, Bloár, Huae, óe Aife la Sruth, Mache, Médé, Mod."

On one foot, and holding up one hand, and breathing one breath she sang all that to them from the door of the house.

With Gregor Huebner (violin, electronics) and Veit Huebner (bass, electronics), a vibrant musical dialogue unfolds between two brothers. Using loop stations and live effects, the acclaimed jazz musicians create layered, almost orchestral soundscapes—both transparent and powerful, energetic yet deeply poetic. Their music thrives in the moment: lines are looped, transformed, and reshaped into virtuosic improvisations. Jazz blends with classical influences, grooves meet sonic experimentation, and delicate chamber-like passages erupt into dynamic outbursts. Original compositions, jazz standards, and newly interpreted classical works sound intimate yet powerful in the duo format. Known as two-thirds of the trio Berta Epple, the Huebner brothers now present themselves for the first time as a pure duo. The result is a distilled artistic essence of more than four decades of shared and individual stage experience, with electronics serving not as an effect but as a third musical voice.

Persistence of Sound releases a new work by Brunhild Ferrari called »L’oreille Voleuse« (The Thieving Ear). The LP features an extraordinary live reinterpretation by Eiko Ishibashi and Jim O’Rourke, recorded in October 2025 in Paris.

»No, without listening at doors, the ear captures noises here and there and unexpected sounds without choice, but remains attentive to the messages of each one picked up over the years. It gathers surprises and impressions, bringing them together in a simple mix. In waking up these ear memories again, which were mostly recorded on magnetic tapes, I am very happy about the collaboration of Eiko Ishibashi and Jim O'Rourke in playing on this mix tape.« Brunhild Ferrari

Eiko Ishibashi is a Japanese composer, singer, and multi-instrumentalist who has developed a unique body of work blending experimental pop, improvisation, and film music. Her work, praised for its expressive intensity and sensitivity to sonic textures, has led her to collaborate with numerous musicians on the international scene, including Jim O'Rourke, with whom she forms a long-standing duo. She is also the composer of several film scores, notably for the films of Ryusuke Hamaguchi (Drive My Car, Evil Does Not Exist), which have helped to bring her work to a wider audience beyond experimental music circles.

Jim O'Rourke is an American composer, producer, and multi-instrumentalist, and has been a major figure in experimental and independent music since the 1990s. His work spans rock, improvised music, electronic music, and contemporary music. A former member of Sonic Youth and a collaborator with Wilco, Gastr del Sol, and Merce Cunningham, he has released numerous solo albums and film scores. Based in Japan since the early 2000s, he continues to pursue a rich and multifaceted musical practice, where formal rigor and freedom of invention coexist.

Persistence of Sound was founded in 2019 by Iain Chambers (Langham Research Centre, Rubbish Music). The label explores the world of electroacoustic music, contemporary global field recordings, and the unclassifiable music spanning these genres.

Schwarzweißes Split-Vinyl LP! "Ultra-catchy. A wicked side of garage soul" - CLASH // "One of their catchiest pieces yet, Sassy, groovy, toe-tapping" - CLASSIC ROCK // "A giddying rush of noise" - MOJO // "The real sound of now busting through my door, new songs that keep kicking the history forward. I can't imagine my turntable without The Courettes" - David Fricke, ROLLING STONE // Die dänisch-brasilianische Band The Courettes war von Anfang an eine Rock'n'Roll-Sensation und kehrte 2024 mit ihrem vierten und bisher besten Album zurück: "The Soul Of... The Fabulous Courettes". The Courettes treffen genau den richtigen Punkt zwischen Garage-Rock, Girlgroup-Pop, Doo-Wop-Harmonien, Herzschmerz und allem, was dazwischen liegt.

This tidy joint release between Future Rootz and Luchando Music compiles rare recordings from 1970s and 80s Cuba, all sourced from private archives and reel-to-reel tapes. This is the sort of selection to get serious diggers hot under the collar as it explores funk-driven arrangements, jazz-informed horn sections and rhythm-led compositions contoured with Afro-Cuban percussion. There is plenty of tape saturation and analogue noise present throughout that reinforces the archival origins of the music and instrumentation centres on brass, keys and layered percussion, with grooves built from syncopated patterns and live ensembles. Alongside the music, restored credits and contextual research foreground the musicians and recording histories behind these previously unavailable works. Do not sleep on this one.

The Belgian dark wave cult heroes The Arch celebrate their 40th anniversary with this self compiled limited double vinyl album, Noisetalgia 1986–2026.

This special release features a curated selection of tracks from the early albums—many of which have never been available on vinyl and have been requested by fans for years. The band is still very active, touring Europe and releasing new music.

“One of Berghain’s longest-serving residents, Luke Slater has been defining bleepy, polyrhythmic, industrial-strength techno as Planetary Assault Systems since the mid-nineties. P.A.S albums tend to come together in their own time:

“External signals and signs combine until the recipe feels right, both musically and from being ‘out there’,” Slater adds. “10 years since I released Arc Angel on Ostgut Ton, and it’s a fitting pleasure to combine live show ideas and studio work for the new album, served up with raw energy” That patience runs through his whole Ostgut catalogue; since Temporary Suspension brought its machine-tooled weight and alien feeling to the label in 2009, each P.A.S. release on Ostgut Ton has been its own quest for discovery, from The Messenger’s search for sounds not yet present in club music to Arc Angel’s focus on melody to the deep hypnosis of Plantae.

His new album, Planetary People has the deliberate imagination and depth of a record that took its time, shaped as much by live rooms and crowds as by the studio.

“Into The Night” creates a haunting, dystopic environment of corroded acid saturated in echo, absorbing from the first second. “Labyrinth” breaks into buoyant tribal percussion, modulated chirps trading off over propulsive drums. “Quadrant 10” is clean, delay-drenched techno, buzzing with noise splatters over saturated thuds. “Sermon Of The Light Tides” scrambles metallic bell sequences that distort and evolve throughout, reminiscent of a dial-up modem crossed with a game of Frogger, squelching between percussive bursts and stripped-back kicks. “Brave Cosmo” is tormentingly menacing, eerie synths panning around buried vocal fragments over frantic percussion. “Retina Burn” rolls on fierce, cement-mixer 909 cycles, rave stabs over a ride that locks you in, the whole track stuttering and repeating before stripping back to a bare echoing kick and building itself again. “Thunder Major” barrels on open hats and reverb-drenched claps ricocheting through twisting wreaths of delay, mesmeric and relentless. “Beton Brut” marches juggernaut percussion stamping through hall reverb so vast you can visualise the room, the darkest and most unrelenting track on the record. “No Ninja” crunches in metallic and immediate, a wiry plucked lead threading through glitch with the bass held low and deep, mixed so precisely you can see every layer stacked in your mind’s eye. “Ha Jam” is danceable techno with plenty of funk and a sophisticated looseness, a vocal laugh bouncing off clanging metal blocks and rave stabs. “Lynx” lowpasses its rave stabs and crystalline beeps, chirpy hats ticking, cold metal repeats, old school and mesmeric. “Generation Slip” closes everything out, ominous and churning, skittering percussion and electrical sparks rattling through steel, a freight train barrelling on into oblivion.

On a remote gravel-covered spit of land on the east coast lie the abandoned buildings of a government facility for weapons testing and experiments with radar.
In the mid 1960s this site witnessed the construction of an over-the-horizon radar, a technological marvel bouncing signals off the ionosphere, built to covertly monitor the activities of other nations.
The reflectivity of the ionosphere is a function of frequency, time of day, time of year and of the solar cycle. In essence, a sympathy for the celestial was required to fully exploit this man made construction.
Plagued by noise that created false returns on the monitors, the intended performance was never achieved, and despite several investigations the system was shut down and eventually dismantled in the early 1970s.
The long dormant Cobra is now a nature reserve.

Farron is back on Shaw Cuts with his next EP called ãHuman LanternsÒ - a tale of social jealousy and long-standing rivalry transformed into 4 bass-heavy broken techno tracks.
The two wealthy kung-fu masters Lung and Tan are embroiled in a long lasting game of perpetual one-upmanship. Vowing to show Tan up, Lung enlists the aid of a man he defeated in a duel years ago in fashioning a masterful lantern for the upcoming festival in which both masters will compete. ãWe Are The WaveÒ and its noisy fragments and broken rhythmics led by a hefty stormy bassline, underline the tension and aversion between the two competing masters.
But the eccentric artisan is more interested in seeking revenge for his old defeat, in taking away everything Lung holds dear. The bass-driven ãSwitch OddÒ and its sharp percussions and phat kick underline the ulterior motives of the shady character.
The evil villainÕs plan of revenge contains kidnapping several beloved women of Lung, skinning them alive and using their flaps of skin to create the ordered lantern. ãGX100Ò and its fast-paced drum pattern carried by virulent synth fragments and raucous pads, epitomises the merciless act of violence.
Tan and Lung falsely accuse each other but feel constrained to eventually team up and hunt the criminal together. ãTalking To ThemÒ rings in furiously and chases the enemy with its rolling bass, chopped vocals and stomping drums, but the villain is sneaky and recalcitrant. Silence before the attackÉ

Death Is Not The End collaborate with Uzbek label Maqom Soul to deliver an LP counterpart to last year's mixtape of the same title, compiling specially picked & fully licensed individual belters from the ex-soviet studios of Central Asian republics between 1978 and 1989 - incl. Uzbek, Tajik, Kurdish & Uyghur artists pulling traditional folk motifs together with pop & rock and psych elements.

"These recordings do not form a smooth or coherent history. They feel more like a sequence of discoveries made at different moments and in different circumstances. Songs and instrumental pieces that once lived inside specific contexts radio broadcasts, philharmonic programs, touring routes now sit side by side, revealing hidden connections as well as clear fractures between them.

Nasiba Abdullaeva appears here as a voice from the end of an era. Trained within a conservatory system, she worked inside the format of the Soviet pop song while filling it with melodic logic that did not come from Moscow or Leningrad. Her voice is soft and sustained, shaped by Eastern melisma, and it never functions as decoration. Even in tightly structured songs there is a sense of resistance, an effort to preserve a musical language rooted in Uzbek tradition rather than fully adapted to an all Union standard.

The ensemble Sintez, later renamed Navo, represents a different path. Beginning as a student rock group, the band was gradually absorbed into the official VIA system with all its limitations and compromises. Yet it was precisely within those boundaries that Sintez and Navo developed a recognizable sound. Electric guitars and jazz rock harmonies do not overpower the folk material but remain in tension with it. Their recordings feel like negotiations between what the musicians wanted to play and what they were allowed to perform.

The Tajik ensemble Gulshan reflects an institutional approach carried to a high professional level. Formed under television and radio structures, the group treated folk material almost as a written score. Carefully constructed arrangements, close attention to orchestration, and restrained use of pop techniques define their sound. There is less spontaneity here, but a strong sense of discipline and structure, where national melody becomes part of a carefully controlled sonic framework.

Koma Wetan occupies a very different space. Formed in the 1970s, this Kurdish rock group approached poetry and folklore as tools of cultural assertion. Their psychedelic rock never feels like a stylistic borrowing. Instead it functions as a contemporary vessel for language and themes that might otherwise have remained unheard. Even today these recordings sound fragile and stubborn at the same time.

The Uyghur ensemble Yashlik, closely connected to a musical drama theatre, operated somewhere between stage performance and popular music. Their songs are built on folk melodies but shaped for wide audiences. What emerges is a constant attempt to preserve the recognizability of Uyghur musical identity without freezing it in a folkloric frame. Yashlik's music exists in a state of balance between representation and development.

Digging Central Asia does not attempt to establish hierarchies or offer a single wayof listening. Names and dates matter less than the sound itself. Tape noise, abrupt transitions, and unexpected timbres remain part of the material rather than flaws to be corrected. This music existed at the crossroads of multiple routes geographic, cultural, and ideological. Heard today in a new context, it no longer feels peripheral. Instead it stands as a reminder that the history of popular music is far more fragmented, layered, and polyphonic than it is usually allowed to be."

With Neolithic Neon, Appleblim creates a kaleidoscopic reflection of the spirituality inherent within electronic music — the ineffable frequencies and communal traditions that spring from exploratory synthesis, deep-rooted rhythms and myriad other sonic codes.

Throughout his third album for Sneaker Social Club, Laurie Osborne continues to express a fascination with the ancient resonance held within modern rave as he guides his own studio practice towards more purposefully analogue processes. It's reflective of his desire to let go and trust his instincts within the more chaotic realm of voltages and signals, not to mention turning to a wider spread of instrumentation and opening up to noisier avenues. This direction defines the character of Neolithic Neon, which bristles with the living imperfections of the gear in the context of incisive and wide-ranging cuts touching on jungle, dubstep, techno, electro, acid and experimental electronic music of all stripes.

Across Osborne's solo output from 2018's Life In A Laser to 2021 tape Infinite Hieroglyphics, a strong melodic sensibility spills out of the richly layered production. It's equally audible in his Wrecked Lightship collaboration with Adam Winchester, and it charges Neolithic Neon with its star-gazing, contemplative streak. From the knotty plucks and licks weaving through opener 'Moorland' to the vaporous synths darting across the top of hardcore conductor 'Thunderstorm', a dreamlike evocation takes the sound off terra firma, musing on cosmic events and our connection to the enormity of the universe.

Eternally in thrall to the maverick vocabulary of pioneering beat scientists and fuelled by the inspiration of great thinkers dwelling on our purpose and place, Neolithic Neon unfurls big ideas without heavy-handed messaging. Instead, it trusts in the universal and time-honoured language of experimentation and rhythm to present its ideas, true to Appleblim's legacy to date while opening a new chapter in his ongoing sonic quest.

Norway's Aura Noir was formed in 1993 by Aggressor & Apollyon in pursuit of a more thrash-based form of black metal than much of what was coming out at the time - particularly in their homeland - citing bands such as Slayer, Sodom & Kreator as inspirations along with purveyors of the scene such as Venom, for a dirtier, stripped down, violent black/thrash metal sound. Their first official release was the 'Dreams Like Deserts' EP on Hot Records, & from there-on the band became a truly cult act, releasing a string of albums among ongoing live performances over the subsequent decades.

'Black Thrash Attack' was Aura Noir's debut full length album, originally recorded & released in 1996, & was a continuation of the intense thrash riffing displayed on 'Dreams Like Deserts'. This edition of 'Black Thrash Attack' includes a cover of the venom classic 'Heavens on Fire', from the cult 'Black Metal' album. All members of Aura Noir have had illustrious careers to date, with Carl-Michael Eide (Aggressor) notable for his work in Ved Buens Ende, Dødheimsgard, Virus, & Fleurety, as well as being part of other scene icons such as Ulver & Satyricon in their formative years. Apollyon, currently also seen in Coffin Storm with Darkthrone's Fenriz, previously featured in Dødheimsgard, as well as Lamented Souls & Immortal. Completing the trio is Blasphemer, formerly of fellow Norwegian legends Mayhem, as well as being current mainman in his recently established band, RUiM.

This edition of 'Black Thrash Attack' marks the 30th anniversary of the release, & is presented on limited marble vinyl, following the layout of the original.